Company
by MomoOfficial
Summary: A quiet evening. Innocent-verse Wheatley/Chell.


Sometimes they spent evenings in bed out of necessity: the house became bitter cold in the winter, and during those evenings Chell would put on as many sweaters as she could and huddle close to Wheatley under the covers.

Sometimes it was out of boredom. Chell would fetch her pencil and paper and they would sprawl out on the sheets, laughing about nothing, until her eyelids drooped and he squeezed her to him and sang her off-key lullabies.

Sometimes it was out of fear.

She would wake up in tears and cling to him until the sun rose.

He would cower in her arms and chitter nervously, and she would kiss him over and over until she saw him smile again.

And sometimes, it was for reassurance.

She was hovering over the sink, washing the dishes. He was using his flashlight to help her see in the darkness, and he was unusually quiet.

He suddenly spoke up.

"You know what we haven't done for a while? Naked time."

Chell dropped the dish and sponge she was holding.

"Just a suggestion. Haven't been at it for a few weeks now."

She gripped the edge of the counter and looked down at the floor, shoulders shaking with laughter. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wheatley puff out his chest. "What's the matter? No shame in it."

Her shoulders only shook harder. She looked up at him and wiped away a few stray tears.

His eyes were wide, and his mouth was slightly open. His shoulders drooped.

He looked hurt.

This has been a good idea of his, and she had laughed at it.

She reached out and rubbed his shoulder. _Sorry,_ she mouthed.

"It's…fine, all fine." Wheatley looked away, the light of his flashlight following his gaze. The tips of his ears were glowing red. "You're clearly not up to it. I'll leave it alone."

Chell slid her hand across his shoulder, up his neck, and under his chin. With one finger, she gently tilted his head up. His eyes followed. The bright white of his flashlight blinded her for a second before he turned it off; she was left staring at a pair of bright blue eyes that shone, cat-like, in the dark kitchen. His cheeks flushed red to match his ears when he made eye contact with her.

She patted his shoulder and beckoned for him to follow. Before he could properly respond, she sauntered out of the room, looking behind her every so often to see if he was watching.

She was halfway across the sitting room when she finally heard him speak in the kitchen.

"Oh. _Oh_. That's a yes, then?"

His head popped around the doorframe. His uncertainty was gone, replaced by a jittery excitement. His eyes and flushed cheeks illuminated his grin. "That's a yes, isn't it?"

Chell continued her slow, sauntering walk along the length of the couch. She stopped at the far end, by the desk, and casually leaned over the couch arm. She shrugged at him, a coy smile playing on her lips.

"Oh ho, I know that face." Wheatley crept into the sitting room, his eyes trained on hers, the grin not fading in intensity but growing a little shy. "You'd like to, wouldn't you?"

Chell's smile widened, and she bit her lip. She shrugged again.

He was halfway down the length of the couch. She suddenly strode around to the other side and stood there, facing him, grinning.

"Oh?"

He moved to her left; she dodged right. He went right, she dodged left.

He stared at her. His smile disappeared. She could hear a faint whirring coming from his internal computer. He was thinking.

Then, finally, he said, his voice hushed:

"Did you know that humans are ticklish?"

She released the couch and slowly backed away, waving her hands.

He grinned again. "Oh, yes, love. Very."

She inched towards the kitchen.

He immediately ran around the side of the couch to chase her. She turned away and darted towards the wall, but he pulled her to him and flitted his fingers up and down her sides. She threw her head back in breathless, silent laughter, wrapping her arms around her waist and slowly sinking to the floor as he continued to tickle her.

"Now I've got you!" he shouted with glee as they rolled around. Her breath came in hiccups from his onslaught, and she playfully wrestled with him, trying to gain the upper hand. "No use trying to fight it! It's inevitable. The tickle master!"

She finally pushed him; he fell onto his back. Her hands went to his sides, and she mimicked the motion of his fingers.

He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a stream of tittering, giddy laughs, his hands trying to push hers away. She kept on him, letting her fingers dart under his jawline and tickle the artificial skin there. "Someone's cheating! Someone's cheating!" he shrieked, then ruffled her hair, his giddy laughter turning into guffaws.

She straddled his stomach and gave him a quick kiss on top of his forehead.

"Ohhh, love." He reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Their breathing slowed, and they beamed at each other. "Good to know a bit of fun is still in order."

Chell stretched out so she was lying on him. She rubbed her nose against his temple. He closed his eyes.

They stayed on the floor for a while, him lying there and humming while she planted kisses on his face. He slipped a hand under her shirt and gently stroked the ridge of her spine.

He opened his eyes. "Can we go somewhere more comfortable?" He laughed, an edge of nervousness in his voice. "Because this isn't…not as if this isn't _brilliant_-"

She placed a finger on his lips and smiled gently at him. He shyly returned the smile; she swore his blue eyes glowed a little brighter when he did.

They went upstairs, went into her room; she pulled him down onto her bed and kissed him. He laughed against her mouth and picked her up, moving them both closer to the center of the bed.

Wheatley moved his mouth to her neck, but Chell gently tapped his shoulder (their sign for "no"), and he stopped and looked up at her. He bit his lip with worry.

"Do you want to stop this? We can if you want to. No skin off my back. No trouble at all."

She shook her head; by means of explanation, she moved her hand to the back of his neck. She briefly stroked it, then tugged on the zipper of his jumpsuit.

Wheatley stared at her for a few seconds while she worked the zipper over the wires on his back. Then he grinned and assisted her in fumbling off the jumpsuit and boots.

He took more time to take her clothes off.

He removed each layer with care and a delicate slowness, as if he was afraid of hurting the clothes or, worse, her. He did this every time he undressed her, and it wasn't a habit Chell could coax him out of.

Not that she wanted to, she thought as he, hands trembling, removed her bra. He ran his fingers over her breasts, eyes full of awe; she smiled and sighed. Wheatley was too gentle with her, but after the hell of his testing so many months ago, it was a welcome change in him.

He finally removed her socks, and it was only then that he abandoned himself to her.

He went for her neck, kissing and gently sucking at her skin, going slowly enough so that he could pay attention to the cadence of her breath. She gasped and tilted her head back to give him more access, and he laughed softly.

She looked down at his blue eyes, shut tight as he moved to her collarbone, and got an idea.

She tapped his shoulder again. He looked up, and Chell felt her breath hitch at the dreamy look in his eyes.

"Yes, love?"

She motioned pulling at either side of her head.

Wheatley's eyes widened; he understood immediately.

"The blindfold?" he asked, his brows furrowing and his shoulders drooping. "I thought we didn't need that anymore."

She shook her head. When he continued to stare at her, she wriggled out from under him and headed to the nightstand. She moved the origami carefully out of the way.

Balled up under so many foxes and cranes and lizards was the long black scarf, where they had last left it months ago.

She sat cross-legged across from him and, stone-faced, held it out.

Wheatley tilted his head. "You first, love?"

She nodded and quirked a smile. _Me first,_ she mouthed.

He took the blindfold from her and tested its weight in his hands. There was a strange seriousness in his face, a thinness to his pursed lips and a crease in his brow, that suggested he was weighing all the history behind it, too.

"Well," he muttered, finally, and laughed. "No harm in trying, is there?"

He sat cross-legged across from her and slipped the blindfold over her eyes.

She sharply took a breath. She trusted him, but part of her, she was sad to note, still wanted to escape him. The lack of clothes, combined with the blindfold, was a newer level of vulnerability; she hadn't thought this through.

She remembered the nightmares and the Monster that had dwelled in them.

Chell covered herself with her arms and drew away.

"No, no!" She felt his hands on her forearms; he pulled her back to where she was sitting. "No, love…nothing to be frightened of. This was…this was your suggestion, and now you're scared? That's not the brave girl I know."

She laughed for a few seconds, then turned her head away.

"We can always stop," he said quietly to her, but she shook her head. A silence descended on them.

Then, suddenly, he kissed her cheek. She looked up.

She felt his lips press against hers.

Blind from the scarf, she leaned forward and returned the kiss, her hand stroking his jaw. He was gentle with her, yielding, almost timid. She broke away for a second, feeling as if she was intimidating him, and he rubbed his nose against hers and pressed a hand to the back of her head: encouragement to continue.

Through the next kiss, he covered her hand with his own. She rubbed gentle circles against the base of his thumb, and he sighed against her mouth.

Then he slipped his arms around her.

"Lie back," he whispered to her. "I've got you. Promise I've got you. Swear on my life."

She slowly leaned back until she was lying flat against the bed. He lay between her legs, pressed against her. The warmth of the blue light from his chest was strong.

He resumed kissing her neck. She wrapped her legs around him and grinned as he slowly made his way along her skin. Her hands ran up and down his plastic spine, earning her an arch of his back and a happy, wordless murmur from him.

"Promise," he said, so quietly that it was almost to himself. He kissed the crook of her neck. "Promise."


End file.
